


Weaponized

by Trychtopus



Category: Midnight Poppy Land (Webcomic)
Genre: Cooking Lessons, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trychtopus/pseuds/Trychtopus
Summary: Poppy indulges Tora's request for dinner, but not without putting him to work.
Relationships: Poppy/Tora
Comments: 11
Kudos: 221





	Weaponized

Poppy fussed with her keys for a moment, trying to separate her apartment key from the few others that dangled stubbornly around it. Behind her, Tora shifted impatiently, his arms full of groceries and a frown on his face. Mentally, she grumbled at him before slipping the key into the lock at long last, but pausing just after she’d turned the door handle to enter. Peeking over her shoulder at the man currently grinding his teeth behind her, she put on a stern look. “Don’t judge my mess, okay? I didn’t exactly anticipate having a guest over today.”

“Will ya just open the door already?” He grunted, lifting the bags of groceries a few inches. “These are fuckin’ heavy.”

She snorted. “If you can lift a person, you can lift groceries.” The door swung open silently and she held it with her toe for a moment so he could pass through to place his burden on the small kitchen table across from the entrance.

“I don’t recall ever carrying anyone up four fuckin’ flights of stairs, sweetheart,” he shook his hands and glared at the red lines cut into them by the plastic bags, irritated. “Ain’t my fault if you pick a bad spot to die.”

“You don’t mean that.” She flipped the fairy lights on but left the main lights of the apartment off, then slid the deadbolt on the door shut. “Shoes off.”

“Seriously?”

“Shoes  _ off _ , mister. It’s good manners.” 

She grinned, knowing that the words he was muttering under his breath were almost assuredly obscene, but watched fondly as he undid the laces on his chucks and made a rather big show of placing them neatly on the mat next to the door. "Anything else, ya highness?"

"No, make yourself comfy. There's drinks in the fridge. Bathroom is over there," she waved indiscriminately toward the entire apartment, earning an eye roll. "I'll get started on these." 

Tora leaned against the wall next to the entrance and watched, pensive, as Poppy began to work diligently on unpacking the groceries he'd carried up for her. He'd never actually shopped for fresh foods before, having always preferred the convenience of takeout as opposed to using the worthless kitchenette in his own residence. After they had spent what felt like ages choosing between this or that bag of potatoes, this steak or the other, which asparagus, whatever, he wasn't feeling particularly inspired to waste his time revisiting the experience. 

Still, he cocked his head as she bustled about, humming quietly to herself, and mulled the situation over in his mind. Life was at least a lot more interesting when she was around. Without her, he'd just be sitting on the couch playing yet another round of FIFA and eating cold lo mein. At least now he had a distraction from himself. 

It was a little fascinating to watch her work. She moved with a purpose, setting things deliberately and removing wrappers from the vegetables. He wasn't even entirely sure what she planned to make, didn't really care, but as she stepped rhythmically around the kitchen to prepare their food, he found himself at least inclined to offer his help. With what, he couldn't say; he didn't know the first thing about cooking, which is why he'd roped her into this in the first place. Still, he felt like an asshole just standing there to be waited on, and so he finally stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"You uh, need a hand?"

Without missing a beat, she snatched an onion from the small pile of veggies on the counter and handed it to him distractedly. When he'd taken it from her, she reached over further into the corner and produced an alarmingly large knife. Tora could feel his entire body tense as he fought the tunnel vision on the point, his instincts driving him to smack it from her, to break her hand and render her a threat no longer--

He swallowed, hard.  _ For fucks' sakes,  _ he sighed to himself, disgusted,  _ get it together, asshole. _

Unaware, Poppy waved the chef's knife impatiently, still distracted by flipping through a cookbook with her other hand. "Could you dice that onion up for me?"

He plucked the knife from her hand, still wary of the blade, and looked down at the two items. Tora had no idea what dice meant, and now he had to figure it out or admit it, neither response inspiring a particularly large amount of confidence. He wondered briefly if he would have time to google it before she noticed, but unfortunately for him, she finally turned toward him, curious at his silence.

Poppy blinked at the man in her kitchen. Tora, who was normally so capable and strong when he was around her, was staring at the onion in his hand as if he were preparing to interrogate it. The image brought a violent urge to giggle and she stifled it immediately, certain it would be her downfall to laugh at him, but still… She smiled, unable to quell the feeling entirely. 

So he  _ did _ have some weaknesses. 

"Want me to show you?"

"That involve pointing this," he held the knife up, "at me again?"

"Maybe if you stay grumpy it does." She reached for the offending weapon and placed her hand over his on the handle, only half surprised when he refused to let go of it. "That's fine, I can work with that, too." She turned, her hand still over his, and slid the cutting board across the counter to them, then straightened out so that her back was flush against his body. Guiding his onion hand in front of her, she smirked to herself, wondering what his face looked like now that  _ she _ had invaded  _ his _ space for once.

Tora stared at the top of her head.

"Now," she bubbled, empowered by the fact that he hadn't launched her away from him yet, "hold the knife like this," she fiddled with his hand a bit until he allowed her to maneuver his fingers into position. "Not like you’re about to  _ stab  _ somebody, for goodness’ sakes, Tora. Take both ends off the onion and throw them out, then strip the outside off and toss that, too." She dragged a large bowl over to them and set it next to the cutting board expectantly, then waited, unmoving from her position.

"Are ya gonna stand there the whole time?"

"Yep."

He sighed deeply and moved to do as instructed. He'd only ever cut people before, and the bright crunch of the onion under the blade surprised him, despite the end falling away from the body easily. Poppy kept her knives sharp; he was impressed. The ends went into the bowl, and he set to work on the papery outside, only to find that his thumbnails weren't long enough to get at it properly. After his third f-bomb, Poppy placed a gentle hand over his and took the onion into her palm.

"Sometimes it's easier if you use the knife, but here," she slipped a fingernail under the offending wrapping and plucked at it until it came free, sending it into the bowl with the ends. "Now, some people do it really fancy with three cuts, but I like to just cut it into slices and do it that way." She lifted her hand and pointed to the knife on the board. "Try for about the width of my pinky finger."

Tora raised an eyebrow and took the knife, then paused and dipped his head just a touch. "Move ya hands, sweetheart," he murmured, fixated on how close her fingers were to where he'd be cutting. Soon as she'd done so, he made short work of the onion, separating it into relatively even slices onto the wood. 

"Hey, are you sure you haven't done this before?" Poppy turned to peer at him over her shoulder. "You're pretty good at it."

He frowned at her. "What's the matter  _ this _ time?"

She blinked. "What?"

Before he could point out her bloodshot, water-filled eyes or ask why she was crying  _ again _ , he felt his own eyes suddenly burning and crinkled his nose against the sensation. " _ Christ- _ "

To his surprise, she laughed. It was always so musical when she laughed for him, and despite the offensive fumes in the air forcing one of his eyes closed and the other into a painful blur, he tried to spot her easy smile that always followed. "Sorry, I guess I should have warned you," she continued to giggle despite the tears rolling down her cheeks, "onions make you cry."

"What kind of fucked up bullshit-"

"Tora!"

He sighed in frustration. "This is why I never learned to cook." 

"Come on now, we're almost done." She grabbed his forearms and, still suppressing her giggles, guided his hands back to the workspace. "This is the worst part, I promise."

"Like I'm gonna believe that." He shook his head, blinking rapidly against the onion assault, and did the best he could to quickly turn the slices into dices. Soon enough, Poppy was satisfied and finally ducked underneath his arm to escape, taking the board with her as she walked. 

"I think I know a few guys I could use that against."

"Only you would consider weaponizing an  _ onion _ , Tora. It's not that bad." She slid the diced vegetable into a pan on the stove and set the heat to medium-high, waving him off. "Why don't you take a load off and watch some TV or something? I think I can take it from here."

He grunted, happy to oblige. The living room area offered an easy enough view of her to keep one eye on Poppy and the other on the rest of their surroundings, and so he found a spot on the couch and reclined, still tense despite the cozy atmosphere. She had an eye for decorating to be sure, though it wasn't exactly his style. There was a stack of books on the table in front of him that complemented the full bookshelf next to the couch and he eyed them, curious. 

Tora had never been one for reading; he'd struggled through school until he figured out that he could just bribe the nerds into doing his homework for him if he fought their bullies for them. He snorted and picked up one of the books from the table, flipping through it absentmindedly as he recalled the way the skinny, pale kids looked up at him the first time he'd slammed his fist into a guy's face in their defense. At the end of the day, he supposed he really was born into it.

Staring at the pages elicited a long sigh from him; no matter how much effort he put into it, he could never quite keep the words and letters from swimming together into a jumbled mess. It was hard enough to text; he couldn't count how many phones he'd broken from crushing them out of frustration when the letters just wouldn't behave. Still, it seemed well loved: the spine had countless cracks in it and several of the pages were worn almost to the point of tearing. On the inside cover was her messy signature and a date from seven years ago.

Poppy was such an enigma to him. He set the book down and leaned back, watching her micromanage the kitchen as she cooked for him. Bubbly and bright and optimistic… The few times they'd gotten close now had left him reeling from the sensation, and they hadn't even really  _ done _ anything yet. He'd fucked girls he remembered less about than the one currently plating his meal and the whole situation was so alien to him he ultimately figured he was just along for the ride at this point. 

As she carried the plates to the table, Tora looked down at his hands, torn between endorsing the disgust that reared its head over all the blood they'd spilled, and clinging desperately to the memory of how it had felt to hold her hand for the first time. Within moments, two smaller, paler hands appeared in his field of vision, palm-down over top of his own. 

Raising an eyebrow, he quickly flipped one of his hands and smacked the back of hers, stifling a laugh at the indignant squeal it produced. 

"Unbelievably rude," she was laughing despite her words and allowed him to soothe her smacked hand by pressing his mouth against the skin--not quite a kiss or an apology, but she spoke his language well enough by now to understand. 

"Shoulda paid attention, sweetheart. It's a mean world out there."

"Well it's a safe space in  _ here _ , and I totally could have gotten you back." She stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to taste the food. She'd made a delmonico for him alongside roasted vegetables. She even made a reduction on top. He eyeballed her plate which just had a humble serving of fried rice and a few chunks of tofu on the side. "Ya sure you're gonna be happy with that?"

"If I eat like you do, I'll get fat. And then you'll stop coming around."

He snorted. What he  _ wanted _ to tell her was that the only thing that would stop him from looking after her would be his own death, but all that he could force out was a rough cough as he stabbed into his steak. They ate mostly in silence, though he couldn't help but notice her sneaking curious little glances at him like she always did. He knew he was intimidating, but that didn't seem like what this was, at least from his experience. Finally, his own curiosity got the better of him, and he waited until the perfect moment to make eye contact with her when she peeked at him between bites. "What? Never seen a man eat dinner before?"

She jumped and blushed, quickly averting her eyes back down to her own plate. She was always so jumpy around him, even now. "I was just wondering if you liked the book."

"Huh?"

She pointed with her fork, indicating the novel he'd attempted to thumb through. "It's one of my favorites. I've read it so many times I've lost count. I noticed you looking at it and I wanted to know what you thought?"

He frowned. "I dunno. I fuckin' hate reading."

Poppy flinched at his words and he mentally kicked himself, scrambling to reverse the damage. 

"I mean," he chewed aggressively on a potato and fought to keep his jaw from clenching shut, "I was never...any good at it. So I just don't."

He wasn't quite sure what to expect from her in return, and simply returned to eating his dinner with a vengeance instead. The feeling of allowing even that amount of vulnerability in front of a near-stranger contradicted everything he'd ever been taught, and it was difficult not to cuss at himself for blurting out his bullshit for her feelings' sake.

After a lengthy pause, Poppy set her silverware down and looked plainly at the man who was still tying himself into knots across from her. "Would you...like me to read it to you?"

He blinked once, then twice, then stared blankly back at her. 

"It's a really good story. I think you might identify a lot with the main character." Without waiting for his answer, she gathered the dishes from the table and stacked them neatly in her hands to take them to the kitchen. “It’s about an outcast from society who plays to the beat of his own drum. Sound like anyone you might know?”

Tora snorted. “I’m no one’s English project, toots.”

The sound of the dishes being placed in the sink was followed by a deeply dramatic sigh. He was toeing the line of actually irritating her now, and fought to keep the grin off of his face. She was beautiful when she was angry. The Poppy that stomped into the living room and swiped the book off the table was nearly fierce, and he leaned back against the arm of the couch with a smirk as she pointed it at him. 

“You know, for someone who obviously knows how to handle himself in a fight, you sure are weirdly afraid of letting people be nice to you.”

“Niceness gets ya killed.” 

“Tora, the only thing that’s kept me from killing you so far is the fact that my hands won’t fit around your thick neck.” 

Wondering just how far he could push her while he was in her bullpen, he tipped his head back a touch, exposing his throat to her in a taunt. “The  _ only  _ reason?”   
  


The exasperated noise that escaped her finally forced a chuckle out of him, which was quickly stifled as she unexpectedly sat herself right between his legs and leaned back forcefully, making an aggressive show of getting comfortable against his body. He flexed his fingers for a moment, unsure of where to put his hands. He’d never admit it, but she was exactly right--he wasn’t at all used to people being kind to him, and especially not in an affectionate way. Fortunately, Poppy wasn’t having it, and grabbed him by both wrists to wrap his arms around her before she flipped the book open to the first page.

“Chapter  _ one _ ,” she bit down on the word and he grinned at the back of her head, delighted that he’d secretly won the battle. 

“You didn’t say the title.”

“You’re not paying attention, anyway.”

“Mm, if this is being nice to me, I’d hate to see ya angry…”

At long last, Poppy sighed and tilted her head back against his shoulder, a pleading look in her eyes. 

“Alright, whatever,” he attempted to shrug but she was surprisingly strong where she leaned down against his forearms, “you can read ya damn book to me. Could use a nap after that dinner anyway.”

“ _ Chapter one _ ,” she muttered once more through gritted teeth, prompting an amused snort from the man she had pinned. He allowed his head to fall back as she began reading, occasionally shifting to make more room for her, or to accommodate her posture better. After a short while, they fell into a sort of comfortable pile on the couch together, her voice lulling him into a gentle sort of trance where he didn’t quite focus on what she was saying, but rather the sounds of her saying it. The tone of her voice and the way her back pressed against his chest were just the right combination to calm his mind and he clung to it greedily, surprised at the way she always seemed to find a way to silence the tempest in his head.

He didn’t pay attention to the story; he didn’t really care. The way her voice jumped and sighed and sang through the words fascinated him and told a story of their own, and as he felt his eyes growing heavy, he wondered what it would take to get her to make this a regular thing without sacrificing enough pride to ask for it. Just the same, he absentmindedly reached up and pulled her closer, squeezing her just tightly enough that she gasped out a breath mid-sentence and elbowed him. With a private smile, he closed his eyes and took in the scent of her hair.

So, this is what “nice” felt like.


End file.
